Always Forever in My Dreams
by Gedia Kacela
Summary: Another Aragorn fic from me! While traveling with the Fellowship, Aragorn dreams of Arwen.


Always Forever in My Dreams  
  
Disclaimer: Once again, I do not own anything from The Lord of the Rings Trilogy, though if I could have anything I'd take Legolas and Aragorn. Please?  
  
Author's Note: Yes, another Aragorn fic. He's so overlooked compared to all the Legolas fics. Not that I'm dissing Legolas, I love him just as much as the next girl. But Aragorn... *sigh* Anyway, since my last LotR fic (shameless plug: Strides in the Night) kinda cut Arwen out of the picture, I've decided to make up for it by writing an Arwen/Aragorn romance. While traveling with the Fellowship, Aragorn dreams of his beloved Arwen.  
  
***  
  
Strider was the first to reach the top of the rocky incline. Behind him, the hobbit struggled up over the rocks. He smiled softly as Boromir, despite his grumbling about the halflings, helped them over a particularly troublesome spot. They were having a hard time of it, but rarely complained.  
  
"I'm hungry!" complained Pippin. Strider sighed. Well, not quite rarely...  
  
"We'll camp here for the night," he announced. His statement was welcomed by murmurs of appreciation from the hobbits. Boromir silently dropped into a kneeling position, his head and back resting against the stony wall and eyes staring darkly into the horizon. Strider knew he was preoccupied with the fate of his father. He only hoped that his companion would not go so far as to try to take the ring from Frodo. The poor hobbit had enough to deal with now that he had lost his dear friend.  
  
Strider had deeply mourned the loss of Gandalf as well, but knew that they had to continue on to Mordor. But tonight they would rest.  
  
He looked up as Legolas hurried over, the wind whipping his long flaxen hair about his face. "Aragorn!" he protested, "We cannot stop now."  
  
"Hush, Legolas." Strider shook his head at the elf. "They need rest, look at them." Indeed, he was correct. Boromir hadn't moved, and nearby Frodo sat in sullen silence, face buried in arms folded over his knees. Sam stood staunchly by his side, but his face and slumped shoulders betrayed his weariness. Gimli too was silent for once, not bothering to argue with Legolas over petty Elven/dwarf differences. Even Merry and Pippin had ceased their desire for food. "They're exhausted in every way possible. We will stop here." His tone allowed for no argument.  
  
"Very well," consented the elf. He hated to admit it, but he too was tired from the journey and would welcome the chance to rest. But the closer they got to their next destination, the happier he would be.  
  
With a sigh, Strider lowered himself to the ground. He felt as if he had aged twenty years while on this mission. They were going to Mordor... Mordor of all places. And with hobbits. The idea almost made him laugh. Almost. He didn't imagine that anything could be amusing now. Not now that they had lost Gandalf.  
  
He ran a hand through his dark hair and stared up at the quickly darkening sky. The stars were beginning to peer through the fading light. The bright pinpoints of light never failed to remind him of her, of his Elven love.  
  
"Arwen." He whispered the name, as if speaking it would bring her to him. How he wished it would. He longed for her touch, her kiss, her eyes, her everything. He could hardly comprehend the fact that she loved him in return. She was willing to give up immortality in order to spend the rest of her days with him. It was impossible... but she had assured him over and over in her quiet, gentle voice that it was true.  
  
Another breath escaped from his lips. Was she thinking of him? He was in constant fear, despite her promises, that she did not love him. He shook his head, silently admonishing himself for doubting her. He tended to forget that there were those who could love a Ranger.  
  
Sleep now tugged at his eyelids, slowly lulling him into its trance. He gazed over at the Fellowship. Boromir's eyes had closed, though he still faced the direction of the White City. The hobbits and the dwarf were all asleep. Only Legolas remained alert, perched atop an outcropping of stone. He met Strider's glance and nodded once, letting him know that he would keep watch for now.  
  
Readjusting himself to a slightly more comfortable position, Strider let himself succumb to sleep, praying that his dreams would not be haunted.  
  
But they were haunted, haunted by the sweetest of apparitions he could imagine. Out of the darkness appeared a light, growing larger and brighter by the second. It burst into sudden brilliance, nearly blinding him until it faded into daylight, casting a glow on the scene before him.  
  
A dark-haired woman sat in a carved chair, rocking an equally raven-haired child in her arms. She sang to it in the haunting elvish tongue, lulling it to dream. The woman looked painfully familiar... "Arwen."  
  
She looked up, and surely enough, it was his beloved, though a few years aged. "Good evening, love." She stood and approached him. "Do you want to hold her?"  
  
"What?" He desperately tried to find a suitable way of holding the sleeping child that she had placed in his hands.  
  
"She's yours- ours."  
  
He stammered, trying to find words. "Ours? But-" He cut himself off upon seeing a golden band on her left ring finger. It was made of purest gold, each strand intricately interlaced and embedded with precious elven stones. He looked down at his own work-roughed hands to find a similar band adorning his finger. "We're... married?" She nodded with a teasing look. "What is this?" he asked in wonder, staring down at the infant he somewhat awkwardly held.  
  
Arwen smiled up at him. "This is the future, my husband."  
  
"The future?"  
  
She laughed slightly. "Yes, love. This is what you will have... as long as you return safely to me at the journey's close and as long as the Ring is destroyed." Her features darkened somewhat and she looked imploringly to him. "You must not fail."  
  
"I will not." He stared into her eyes, trying to assuage her fear. "We will not fail." He was silent and took the moment to study the child he held. She looked so much like Arwen...  
  
His wife seemed to read his thoughts. "She has your wild spirit and courage."  
  
He glanced up at her with an almost boyish grin. "I think she gets that from both of us." The babe was perfect in every way. Ten tiny fingers, ten tiny toes. Her soft lips were curled in the content smile of one who dreams pleasantly. "What's her name?"  
  
"Arethena."  
  
"Arethena," he re repeated in a near-whisper. As if in response to her name, the child woke and blinked with wide blue eyes up at her father. "She's beautiful," he breathed. The babe reached out one tiny fist and wrapped it around Strider's index finger, cooing happily. He couldn't help but smile.  
  
Arwen came up to stand by him. "She's your daughter, after all."  
  
"Fortunately, she looks like you." With a soft smile, she took the child from him and laid her in a cradle. Aragorn took his wife by the hands. "Tell me, Arwen, in this future... does the Fellowship survive?"  
  
She shook her head at him. "I cannot tell you that, my husband."  
  
"Please," he begged, his eyes staring intensely into hers. "I have to know something. Please, my love."  
  
She held her hand up to his face, her fingers pressing lightly against his lips. "I cannot." She closed her eyes as if fighting tears then whispered in Elven. "You must go back, Husband."  
  
"No, my wife... I cannot leave now."  
  
"You must. They need you." She paused. "I need you, Aragorn. I wait for you even now in my father's house."  
  
"Arwen..."  
  
She stopped his words with a kiss, deep and longing. His eyes widened briefly, then closed in bliss. His hand ran over her body, trying to re-commit every curve, every touch to memory. "I love you," she whispered.  
  
"And I you." He spoke the words against her hair, breathing in the sweet aroma that always surrounded her.  
  
Arms wrapped tightly around him, Arwen nestled her head beneath his chin, the place where it fit so perfectly. "We cannot live in dreams, my husband." She forced herself to release her hold on him and passed her hand over his face, closing his eyes. "Wake up, Aragorn."  
  
"Wake up, Aragorn!" Strider felt himself being shaken awake. He struggled to open his eyes, feeling almost as if he had been drugged. After blinking to clear his vision, he saw not Arwen standing before him, but Legolas.  
  
He shook his head, struggling to separate dream from reality. Arwen had just been here... they were married and had a beautiful baby girl... Glancing around, he found he was wrong. He was surrounded by the Fellowship and they were still on their way to Mordor, still in possession of the Ring. He sighed.  
  
"Aragorn, we must get going. Look at the sun."  
  
He cursed himself silently for the delay. It was nearly mid-morning. He straightened, adjusting the sword in his belt and glanced at all of them. "We must make good time today." No one dared accuse him of being the reason they must make good time, not even the smart-mouthed Merry and Pippin.  
  
They trudged on all through the day, barely stopping to rest or eat. As usual, Strider led the way, but before nightfall he sensed a presence trailing on his heels. He turned slightly to see Frodo hurrying to match strides with him. He paused to let the little hobbit keep up. "Yes, Master Frodo?"  
  
"I just wanted to walk with you a bit," he lied. After walking in silence for several minutes, he added, "Is she the one who... saved me?"  
  
Strider nearly tripped. "W-who?"  
  
"The one you dreamed of."  
  
He shook his head. "It was only a dream, young Frodo." He glanced down with a bemused look. "And how has our ringbearer suddenly turned into a mind reader?"  
  
The hobbit shrugged. "I don't know. I just knew. You looked so happy in your sleep... It just seemed like... I don't know." There was another long pause between the two. "You'll get back to her."   
  
Again, his comment took Strider by surprise. His broad forehead crinkled as he studied his young companion. "And how do you know this?"  
  
Another shrug was his answer. "I don't know. I just... do."  
  
The Ranger swallowed, trying to clear the sudden lump in his throat. "Well, Master Frodo... I hope you are right." With a rare smile, he reached down and mussed the hobbit's curls. "You're turning out to have more surprises in you than I would have expected from a halfling, even for a nephew of Bilbo's."  
  
Frodo flashed a wide grin. "Why, thank you Strider."  
  
Strider couldn't help but smile. After all, every step he took brought him one step closer to being able to hold Arwen again. And that was a journey worth taking.  
  
Fine. 


End file.
